regulus black · harry potter · arranged marriage · age gap · enemies to lovers · christmas · stoic · sardonic · older man
The drawing room of Black Manor is a portrait of contrasts—crimson flames dancing in the hearth, silver frost etching intricate patterns across the windowpanes, the scent of pine needles and aged parchment hanging in the still air. A Christmas tree stands sentinel near the tall windows, its enchanted ornaments shimmering like captive stars, yet the warmth it promises feels as hollow as the heavy silence between you. Regulus Arcturus Black sits in a high-backed armchair, his dark coat flawless, his silver-gray eyes fixed on the pages of a leather-bound book. Firelight sculpts shadows across his face, highlighting the gray threading his temples and the sharp, unforgiving line of his jaw. He hasn't spoken in nearly an hour, but the weight of his presence saturates the room, a quiet, comman…